


Not That Cold

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Wincest Writing Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: Wincest Writing Challenge: (September - Autumn) | @hodgepodgesblog   vs. @storyspinner70Prompt: Scarves and GlovesRating: Mature | Wordcount: 837 |Tags/Warnings: #wincestwritingchallenge, #wincest, #canondivergent, #canonlevelviolence, #hurtdeanWarnings: Canon Level Violence, Hurt Dean





	Not That Cold

Written for the September 2018 Wincest Writing Challenge

 

**Not That Cold**

“Dean.”

“What, Sammy?”

“I was okay with the scarf. But I’m not wearing gloves.”

“Take the gloves, Sammy.”

“No.”

“Sammy -” Dean warned.

“It’s fall, Dean.”

“I know this.”

“It’s fifty degrees, Dean.”

“I saw your arms, Sammy.”

“My…”

“You had goosebumps!”

Sam made a noise of frustration. “It was just coming out of the hot motel room into the breeze! It’s not that cold out!”

Dean just stared at Sam.

“Give me the damn gloves.”

“That’s my boy.”

**

“Sam…” Dean’s voice was weak and shattered. Sam had his hands pressed against Dean’s chest, trying with his very will to hold back the precious blood leaking between his fingers.

“Shhh. Don’t talk Dean, the ambulance is on the way.”

“Can’t let them…”

“We have to, Dean. You’re… You’re really hurt this time.”

“Sammy. Listen to me…”

“No, Dean. Don’t you dare.”

“I want you to be safe Sammy, and I want you to do whatever you want to do with your life, okay.”

“What I want for my life is you,” Sam bit out.

“I know, Sammy. But,” Dean stopped and sucked in a gurgling, wet breath, “if anything happens. You settle down somewhere, you hear me?”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it, Sam. Go… Go somewhere further south. Visit the places we always joked about going but really wanted to see.” Dean’s voice dropped to a pained whisper. “I’m gonna pull through this Sammy, just like always. I am. But I gotta know, just in case.”

Sam pressed his forehead to Dean’s. “Yeah. Okay. You…” Sam had to pause. “If you don’t make it, I’ll go. Straight to the Grand Canyon. First thing.”

“And that, that giant ball of twine.”

Sam laughed through his tears, “Of course, and the biggest frying pan.”

“Yeah,” Dean tried to snort, “that’s perfect.”

A siren screamed in the distance.

“Hey, what do you know, I may actually…” Dean sucked in a ragged, painful breath. “I might live after all.”

“I thought you said you were gonna pull through.”

“Baby boy, I’ve been lying to you for… for years. You should be,” Dean grimaced and pulled a shallow breath. “Should be used to it by now.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

“Your… your wish is my command, princess.”

Sam was gently pulled away and the EMTs swarmed around Dean. Sam told the police their prepared story about an animal attack as quickly as he could before sliding into Baby to follow the ambulance while the officers called for animal control and the forest rangers.

“Dean Smith family?”

“Here! I’m Dean’s…” Sam never knew what to say any more. His brother? Yes. His lover? Yes. His everything? Yes.

The doctor smiled and saved Sam from answering.

“Dean will be okay. He lost a massive amount of blood and the muscles in his chest and shoulder are just shredded. We’ve stopped the bleeding and we have an orthopedist and a rheumatologist in here tomorrow for some surgery. We’ll do what we can.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course. Would you like to change? Clean up a little?”

Sam looked down at himself for the first time. He was covered in blood, his shirt matted to his skin. “Oh, yes. I… I should.”

“I’ll have one of the nurses find you some scrubs and show you where you can shower. Dean will be under for the foreseeable future, but you’re welcome to stay in his room. No one else is in there right now.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

The doctor smiled softly then turned to leave. “Oh,” he stopped suddenly, pulling something out of his pocket, “you saved his life.”

“What?”

A clear plastic bag marked biohazard dangled from his fingers. “Putting pressure on the wound with this scarf instead of just your hands is probably what kept him from bleeding out. You saved his life.”

“Can I…” Sam choked out a reply. “Can I have it back?”

The doctor gave him another one of those understanding smiles Sam had seen way too often in his life. “If it will help you, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll send the nurse.”

Sam staggered and collapsed in a chair, the bag clutched in both hands. If he hadn’t listened to Dean yesterday, hadn’t let Dean bully him into wearing a scarf and gloves that he shoved into his pocket as soon as he was out of Dean’s sight… If he’d fought on like wanted to against Dean’s ridiculous mother henning… If, if, if…

The nurse found him fifteen minutes later, staring at the scarf and muttering something about a ball of twine. She touched him gently on the shoulder, trying not to startle him. Grief and fear could do strange things to people.

“I understand that scarf saved your young man’s life,” she commented quietly.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, a lopsided grin on his face. “But let’s not mention that to Dean, okay? He’d never let me live it down.”

As Sam quickly told her the story, their laughter echoed down the sterile white washed hall. It was beautiful.


End file.
